


The Trials of Amonkhet

by Monstradamus



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2020-06-10 13:19:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19504927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monstradamus/pseuds/Monstradamus
Summary: Five stories about different crops taking on the five trials of Amonkhet. Reader beware, only the worthy ascend.





	1. Ambition

**Author's Note:**

> _The next five chapters you are about to read are a series of five different challenge pieces all set on the world of Amonkhet. Each story will focus on one of the five trials of the gods on Amonkhet. This one in particular is for the WA All-Dialogue/No-Dialogue challenge, and it will be focusing on the Trial of Ambition. The name of the game is no-dialogue, so "mum's" the word._
> 
> _For those of you planeswalkers who are unfamiliar with Amonkhet, this mystical world is based entirely on Ancient Egyptian history and culture. On the world of Amonkhet, everyone desires the death of a champion, which promises a rich afterlife. To achieve this desire, citizens of this world are divided into crops of 20 or so people who all compete in the trials together as one unit. Each of the five trials was created by one of the five gods of Amonkhet. Rhonas, the naga (serpent-headed) god, oversees the Trial of Strength. Oketra, the feline-headed goddess, oversees the Trial of Solidarity. Kefnet, the aven (ibis-headed) god, oversees the Trial of Knowledge. Bontu, the crocodile-headed goddess, oversees the Trial of Ambition. Hazoret, the khenra (jackal-headed) goddess, oversees the Trial of Zeal. Members of the crops must prove themselves and gain all five cartouches from these trials to achieve their final reward. This ritual is all in service to the great God Pharaoh, may his return come quickly, and may we be found worthy._
> 
> _As always, I own nothing of MtG or its fantastic worldbuilding. All credit goes to Wizards of the Coast. Also, thank you for another killer cover art, courtesy of December Sapphire._

There were so many things that Reshef wanted to say at that moment. He could have apologized, could have begged for forgiveness, could have just told his friend it would be alright, but there was nothing that could be said. There were no kind words to offer as he cradled Kebu in his arms as he bled out. The naga warrior's breath was raspy and labored as he fought for life.

He wished Kebu would just let go. Now was not the time for his determined spirit. He had loved that tenacity when the Khet Crop had taken on the Trial of Solidarity. No matter what the feline-headed goddess had thrown at him, Kebu fought harder, moving swiftly to help Sebak to catch the golden arrow.

But now, Kebu's service to the crop was done. He needed to rest, to let go and accept his honored fate as an anointed.

Reshef looked around him as they stood in the halls of Bontu, the Ambitious. Their crop had been wiped down to a mere eight good warriors after they had started with well over twenty. But Reshef knew that even the strongest crops lost a good many of their own to Bontu's trial.

Bontu's trial was of ambition, and that was the price of ambition: sacrifice. The tests were designed to force crops to make tough decisions, to accept that loss was inevitable. Reshef just wished these deaths could have been different; less painful, more dignified. He could still hear Sebak's screams as the scarabs devoured him.

Perhaps this could have been easier if he had not known his crop so closely. They were just kids really, and most of them had grown up knowing each other since they were toddlers. They thought they were invincible, that they would all receive the blessed death of champions after completing the trials.

But that was just it: Bontu's trial was made to test one's bond with their crop. It was not supposed to be an easy set of decisions.

The trials before this were supposed to build them up, make them stronger, give them confidence, and give them all the best chance for future trials. But nothing prepared them for this.

The first of the trials was the easiest. True, Oketra's challenge required more in the way of speed and teamwork, but they made their strategy work like clockwork. Reshef had unofficially been made leader of the crop. He was considered honest and fair, and he knew their group's strengths and weaknesses. It was through his planning that they had passed the trial so easily.

That was when he and Kebu had really become close.

He had known the young naga when they were mere children in training. Kebu was the quiet and obedient sort, and rarely had time to talk, so they had not gotten to know each other before. But as they prepared for the next trial, it was Kebu who had helped come up with most of their strategy. He was also one of the smartest on the field and had earned the favor of many of his cropmates as a result.

When Reshef finally had the time to speak to him, he found a kind, considerate man wise beyond his years. That wisdom would come in handy for their next trial, but for now, Reshef considered Kebu his closest friend.

Kebu also had a strong spirit, and truly believed in the importance and honor of the trials. His optimism was infectious. There had been some days, during training or in the heat of battle during the trials, where their morale was low, and only the vibrant naga could give them the courage to go on. Reshef would miss that the most.

When the Trial of Knowledge came, it was Kebu's turn to shine. He had a deep respect for Kefnet's realm and had prepared thoroughly for the challenge they would face. While the rest of them had at first stood in awe and marveled at the illusions that taunted them, Kebu helped lead the charge to guide them through the labyrinth. Only one of their own was lost that day. Shemet, the bright and cheerful woman who never had anything ill to say about her crop found her mind nearly shattered through the trial, and Kefnet deemed her unworthy to pass through.

That set them back a bit, mentally anyway. While true, some crops lost a few members along the way, it was an uncommon occurrence, at least until crops got to the Trial of Ambition. Losing one of their own was like losing family. It was losing family. They were all each other had known, and now one of their sisters in this noble endeavor had been snatched from them. Needless to say, the experience had sobered them to not just the difficulty, but also the danger of the trials.

That did not shake their faith in the trials. They all knew what they were destined to do. They knew the risks. They would see their journey through to honor the God Pharaoh.

But, perhaps that should have made them wary about Bontu's trial. No one ever spoke of her trial, and her ritual was shrouded in secrecy. The only thing the Khet Crop knew about it was that there would be more losses to come. The Trial of Ambition was not for the faint of heart.

Though, their faith was restored in the next trial, and by no means was that an insult to Rhonas, god of strength. His trial was challenging, to be sure, but it did not require any more skill other than brute force, and perhaps the ability to avoid a few poisoned fangs. Still, strength was something they had trained for daily as children. The Khet Crop was ready. The gauntlet of massive creatures thrown against them posed almost no challenge. They had prepared for the swift movements of the gigantic serpents, the deadly poisons of the lizards and frogs that hid in the crevices, and the complexity of the hydras.

They had all beamed with pride wearing the glowing cartouches of the serpentine god. Rhonas had praised them as being one of the fastest crops to complete the course. That set them in good spirits for their next challenge against Bontu.

Upon entering Bontu's temple, they were not sure what to expect. They knew there would be challenges that would test every aspect of them, but the physical nature of these challenges was not detailed. In many ways, the Trial of Ambition was really one of adaptation, and how the team could adapt to a barrage of different challenges.

First came the pit of sludge. The task seemed simple enough. They sent Sebak, the aven, to go to the crank floating in the middle of the pool of dark muck. While the pit looked harmless enough, Reshef thought this all seemed too easy, and therefore wished to take precaution. Sebak could fly to the crank and would not have to wade in it. He reached it easily, the crank pulling up the bridge that they were to walk across. But, as Reshef had suspected, it was not that easy. When more of the sludge started pouring into the chamber, he knew they had to move quickly. When Sebak landed on the bridge to join them, he misjudged and his foot grazed the goo.

He shrieked in pain, but they did not have time to deal with that. Reshef slung one of Sebak's arms over his shoulder and helped him hobble to safety.

Upon reaching the corridor and getting to safety, they were better able to inspect the wound. Several members of the crop became sick when they saw that the flesh on the bottom of Sebak's foot had practically been melted off. Only bone and some muscle could be seen. Reshef respected Sebak for not making more of a fuss, as he knew the pain had to be agonizing.

After the initial shock, someone tore off a piece of their tunic. It was not much, but it would be enough to bandage Sebak to avoid infection, and maybe get him through the rest of the trial. If only Reshef had known what was to be Sebak's fate, he would have ended his misery there. Still, they had survived the first of Bontu's challenges without losing anyone. That, in of itself, was a great accomplishment.

It was the ammit which caused them struggle and began the first in a series of "glorious deaths" to come. When the beast thrashed, they all scattered, just like they had been trained to do for Rhonas' challenge, but this time, they knew there would be no stopping it. No one had fought an ammit and lived. Their hope was just to distract it long enough to get everyone out of there.

Kebu really proved his worth in the obstacle. His speed and cunning worked excellently to keep the ammit busy while the others raced through the narrow door. Reshef had no doubt in his mind that his friend would be safe. The naga could easily outmaneuver the lumbering creature. However, this plan did not go as flawlessly as hoped. The ammit grew bored of chasing prey it could not catch and drew its attention to the few remaining stragglers.

Reshef acted quickly, grabbing the hobbling Sebak's arm and yanking him through the door. He could not say the same for Anum, a fellow khenra like himself, with a hopeful spirit. What he lacked in strength, he made up for with his optimism. The ammit snapped him up in its jaws and all of them could hear his last cries of pain. Kebu slithered through the door when the screaming had stopped.

Everyone muttered something about Anum's death being glorious and how Bontu would have been pleased. Reshef knew he was supposed to repeat a similar phrase. They had been taught to do so whenever one of their own was lost, but he could not find the words in his throat. Glorious death or no, they had lost another of their own. Kebu placed a hand on his shoulder in understanding. He had to stay strong. There were more challenges they had to face.

Before them was a hall of swinging blades. They moved slow enough that only a fool would not be able to move quickly enough through them, but there was a catch. There was always a catch they were all starting to realize. He nodded for someone to help Sebak through. If they could not afford to lose any more of their numbers, he would do whatever it took.

As he had suspected, the challenge was not all it seemed. As soon as the first two had passed through, the blades started swinging a hair faster. They had to plan this just right.

Reshef knew what Bontu meant to happen. He now understood these tests. But they were fighters. They were champions. He was not going to let things end this way. He organized them into pairs based on speed. He and Kebu, as the two fastest, would take up the rear. At least then, if the unthinkable happened, it would be he who died the glorious death and would not have to watch the others suffer.

It seemed as though the plan would work. Each pair made it through the hall safely, each swing of the blades getting faster and faster. Reshef was almost certain that they would survive two challenges without any losses.

That was until Mesu and Sabah ran through. They were the next to last pair to run, and Reshef already saw their mistake. Mesu hesitated first, and the blade clipped his horn, knocking him into Sabah. They were torn to ribbons almost instantly as fast as the blades moved. Reshef heard the sickening sound of blade sinking into flesh before he heard their screams.

It was over in an instant: two more glorious deaths in service to Bontu. Reshef wanted to throw up. The smell of blood was already getting to him. Once more, it was Kebu who urged him on. The blades had not stopped because of one failure. They had to run.

He was surprised how easily he could jump over the flayed bodies of his former cropmates. Then again, perhaps it was just his own instinct for survival that pushed him through.

Reshef did not have time to think about what had just happened. His crop was already moving to the next room. They could not dwell on the dead. That was what they had been taught. They had to keep going forward. He chanced one glance back at their remains, wishing it had been him instead.

He knew when they approached the next challenge that there was no longer a choice, no longer a chance; others would have to die. To open the door on the other side, they needed four members to stand on stone pillars. They would not be able to come with them. The group looked to him to decide their fates. Ambition came with a sacrifice, he remembered.

He knew they would not hate him for his decision. It was all how the trials were supposed to work, yet he could not help but feel like he had disappointed his crop. Sebak volunteered to stay. His injury was slowing the group down, and he was almost certain it would never be able to heal. Reshef was grateful not to have to make that hard decision. Still, he had to select three more. Halima, Atef, and Pamu were the weakest of the group left. Rather, they were not as strong. Reshef thanked them for what would be their own glorious deaths. Theirs were the worst of all because they knew what awaited them.

The door opened when they stood on the pillars, and the rest of the crop rushed through the door. Reshef looked back to see the swarm of scarabs released into the room, devouring the flesh of the four volunteers while they still lived. It was a sound he never wished to hear again.

Upon reaching the final chamber, their numbers had been reduced to a mere eight initiates. They had lost Nahresi, Entef, Petiri, Souphis, Neema, Asenath, Kabir, and Anai in the other rooms, each death more gruesome than the last. Shadowy soul devourers, bone-crushing stones, and even a room that required the initiates to butcher one of their own so that their organs could be placed in the correct canopic jars had all been part of the trial. They arrived weary and brow-beaten before the crocodile-headed goddess. Even Kebu's vibrant smile had dulled.

And now, here he was, wrist-deep into Kebu's chest. When Bontu told them the price to get across the pool of water separating her from the rest of them, he knew what they would have to do. Ambition was not about strength, solidarity, or knowledge; it was about who wanted it more. But it was not glory or the completion of the trials Reshef wanted most: it was not having to witness any more glorious deaths, and not having to endure one himself.

Kebu had offered little resistance. Perhaps he no longer had hope. Perhaps he did not want to live as bad as Reshef did. Perhaps he was just tired of it like they all were. While the other initiates fought amongst themselves to pay the toll, it seemed as if time had stopped for Reshef and Kebu, as if they were the only two people in the world.

With shaking hands, Reshef had plunged the knife into the naga's chest. His best friend in the whole world: it was meant to be. Kebu admitted he would have had it no other way in his last dying breaths.

The khenra finally put his friend out of his misery and gave one last tug, pulling his heart out. Kebu's eyes became glassy and dull. The last thing he would see was Reshef holding his heart. He went to the pair of scales at the edge of the pool and tossed his prize carelessly onto it. The goddess had her toll now. The bridge rose out of the waters, allowing him to cross safely without fear of the poisonous snakes in the water. He could hear the rumbling, hissing laugh of Bontu as she waited for his approach.

Four crossed that bridge, hands bloodied with the blood of their cropmates. Among the dead on the other side were Kebu, Heru, Kakra, and Sakhmet. All that remained now before they received the glorious award of champions was Hazoret's Trial of Zeal, where he would be asked to slay heretics. Reshef did not feel like a champion. He would fight for all their fallen cropmates, but he was no hero.

Ambition comes with a sacrifice, and only those who had died a glorious death in Bontu's trial knew that lesson well. They were the real champions.


	2. Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neheb, one of the most famous champions of Amonkhet, undergoes the trial of Knowledge. Will he come out a wiser man?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _There’s not much to say here, but just to get some technicals out of the way, this particular chapter is written for the WA Role Reversal Challenge in which two or more characters must switch their roles within the story (i.e. brains becoming brawn, villain becoming hero, etc.). And this story actually won that challenge!_
> 
> _As for the characters presented here, the majority are OCs, however, I should mention that Neheb does not belong to me. Neheb the Worthy is in fact a canon character, despite us knowing so little about him other than that he was one of the greatest champions on Amonkhet. So, enjoy!_

Neheb looked upon the gleaming temple of Kefnet with a sure smile. Today was the day they would face the Trial of Knowledge, and then the Mhat crop would be finished with their second trial. The end was in sight. He breathed the crisp desert air, and he could smell just a hint of victory in the wind.

His good spirits could not be shaken. He turned to the rest of his crop. He was fortunate to have been given a team of loyal, strong, and resilient men and women. They were a guaranteed success, more or less.

Of course, every crop had its weaknesses, and theirs was Itah. It was not that she was necessarily weak or slowing them down. She just lacked the willpower and the determination their other members had. The small, gangly human really just did not have it in her to be a champion of the trials. She had nearly given up when she could not keep pace to face Oketra’s Trial of Solidarity. The Trial of Knowledge was one of will and courage, which Itah clearly lacked.

But not Neheb. The vital and vigorous minotaur was the pinnacle of a champion of Amonkhet. There was not an initiate among the whole city of Naktamun who dared to challenge him. And it came as no surprise to anyone that he had taken on the mantle of leader of the Mhat crop.

And like any great leader, Neheb already began to inspire his crop mates. “Take it in, initiates,” he said, inhaling deeply once more. “Today we face the most mentally challenging of all the trials. Kefnet does not suffer fools easily, and his challenge is made to weed out the unworthy. But we are the Mhat crop. There is not a man or woman among you I would not call worthy of it.”

Except for maybe Itah, he thought to himself. Neheb knew this was not yet the Trial of Ambition, where each individual member of the crop needed to shine. The Trial of Knowledge, like the previous trial, still required teamwork. But if worse came to worse, Neheb knew there was a possibility they would have to leave Itah behind, for the good of the team.

The cheers of his crop mates restored his faith in their ability. Kefnet was sure to be surprised with his team’s mental prowess.

As the crop stepped into the temple, they immediately felt the drop in the temperature from the warm breeze outside, and it took a while for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Kefnet’s temple was kept cool, dark, and quiet: an ideal atmosphere for the intense studies his prestigious priests immersed themselves in. A faint blue glow could be seen from behind the doors and the other end of the room.

One of the aven scribes sitting at a stone table in the middle of the room looked up from his work and nodded solemnly as the crop approached. “Initiates, welcome,” he said. “Kefnet has been expecting your arrival. He awaits you on the other side of that door. Remember your lessons, stay focused, do not let your instincts overwhelm you, and you will all be fine. I expect your success, initiates. May you please the God Pharaoh.”

“May his return come quickly, and may we be found worthy,” the crop recited.

The aven nodded solemnly. “This way.” He led them to the door with the ominous light glowing from the other side.

Seeing the glow seemed to sober the team up. They had heard tales of the trial. It was one of the most dynamic, always changing to fit the personal fears of each individual crop. Very few had been known to fail it, but all those who survived it came out changed: more contemplative, solemn, and stoic almost. It was almost as in the trial had made them wiser.

The aven began to open the door. “The trial begins, initiates,” he said.

Stepping in, the room seemed to melt away and vanish. Instead, they found themselves awash in the cool glow of a room with walls made of water.

Neheb, as usual, took the lead. “Remember, we’ve trained for this. The trial is simple: navigate the maze and don’t get caught up in the projected distractions. We are supposed to use our heads.”

But not everyone was listening to his empowering speech. Rhamas, a brave but sometimes foolhardy khenra, was busy looking up at the ceiling, his mouth hung open in shock. A shaky hand pointed upwards.

Neheb, like the rest of the initiates, followed his gaze. Flying overhead was a large, serpentine drake, not all that unlike the ones they had seen overhead in the city circling above. It spied the crop, and its crocodile-like head roared, and it swooped down to strike.

“It’s not real,” Neheb shouted, hoping to keep everyone together and their heads in the game.

Too late. Rhamas’ panic was already overtaking him, and he seemed to sink through the floor, like wading into a pool. The rest of the crop began to scatter, as Rhamas’ manifested fear proved that it was indeed very real, thrashing its tail, and knocking several initiates to the ground. Neheb ran to Rhamas. Just before he sunk deeper into another layer of his own fears, he grabbed his hand and pulled him up.

Neheb pointed to the creature. “That is what you’ve made with your own imagination. It’s only real because you made it real. You’re the only one who can make this go away. Remember, we have to focus.”

Rhamas was trembling uncontrollably. He watched on in terror as the drake roared and rampaged around the room. Their crop mates were scrambling to avoid its wrath. He tried to concentrate, tried to imagine the beast away. But it was no use. His fears continued to consume him. “I…I…uh…”

Neheb’s horns started to glow a warm orange. “Now would be a good time to grow a spine,” he said through gritted teeth.

“There’s a door over there,” he heard Itah shout.

Just there in an otherwise unseen corner was an exit. Neheb rallied the rest of the crop, and they ran, narrowly escaping the drake. Catching their breath, Neheb glowered at Rhamas. “Look, this trial is about learning to face our fears and use a little logic and reasoning instead. No champion ever earned their place of honor without tackling their fears. We all need to start acting like champions.”

He would have said more, but he had finally stopped to look at the halls they were in. The blue glow of the ethereal air still swirled around them, reminding them all that they were still in a projection. But the room contained staircases upon staircases. They seemed to go on endlessly, and it did not seem like they led anywhere particular. In fact, some of them looked as though they might be upside down.

“Where to now?” he heard someone ask.

Neheb tried to look at all the varying pathways from every angle. There was no clear indicator of where they were supposed to go. But he had to think, had to come up with something. He was their leader after all.

“It’s probably only a distraction,” Itah muttered. “The writings said that Kefnet fills his trials with puzzles and distractions to misdirect initiates.”

Neheb nodded absently. He started to remember reading that himself. Why had he forgotten that? There was no time to contemplate that now. He began looking around the other areas of the room.

There! There was one set of stairs set away from the others, and it seemed that it led nowhere. In all likelihood, there was an unseen door. He nodded to the rest of the crop and they made their way over.

But as Neheb followed behind, he got the feeling he was being watched. He felt something pointed press against his shoulder. He turned around, but there was no one there. He had to keep his head, he thought. These were just projections.

Just as they had suspected, there was a hidden door, leading to a crawlspace. One by one, the crop crawled through the area, moving onto the next room. So far, the challenge had been relatively easy, meaning it would probably get much worse as they progressed.

Soon, the rooms began to blur together into long, endless, open spaces filled with complicated puzzles. It felt like they had been in this maze for days, though given how this test worked, once they were out, it would probably only have been a few minutes that had passed.

All the while, more and more projections made their presence known. More than once, he had to practically drag his crop mates out, quaking at the knees before they sank deeper into another layer of the maze. If any of them fell, there was very little chance of them getting out, and Kefnet did not accept failure. Still, as they continued, the projections were starting to feel more real, and the threats they presented were very real. A few times, these manifested fears took a few good swipes at them.

By now, they were starting to feel the strain. Endless time in the maze trying to figure out where to go next, and trying to avoid their own fears made real, they all hoped they were close to the end. The maze was also starting to feel less like a structure. Walls no longer existed, there were no longer any recognizable features like doors or stairs, and the floor seemed like walking in a shallow pool of water.

Even Neheb was feeling the strain. He knew his team could not take any more of this. And his own patience was starting to wear thin. Normally, he was used to solving problems by force, and he had tolerated these mind games up to a point. But now, they needed to get to the end if they wanted to keep their sanity intact.

He brought up the rear of the group, keeping an eye out to see if anyone was losing motivation. Itah slowly shuffled ahead of him. She had hardly said anything throughout the entire ordeal. Not that Neheb was surprised. Surely, she could not keep up this strategy of riding everyone else’s coattails to the finish.

Neheb heard a loud yell behind him, like a war cry that made his skin prickle. His head jerked around to find the source of the noise, but there was nothing behind them. When he heard it again, he had a sneaking suspicion he knew what it was. It was only an illusion, he kept telling himself.

That did not stop a very real and ferocious-looking warrior from coming up behind him and tackling him to the ground. Neheb thrashed and fought enough to at least get himself turned around to see his attacker. It looked like one of the Anointed: a faceless being covered in bandages, like the ones who served the city so diligently. It had a spear pointed at his chest, ready to plunge it into his heart.

The greatest fear Neheb ever knew was failure. He dreaded the thought of losing during the trials, dying at the hands of a foe stronger than he was, and receiving not the glorious death of champions, but the death into servitude as an Anointed. His heart was paralyzed with an icy chill as he stared that fear in the face.

He struggled against its grip some more, but he could already feel himself sinking into the floor, deeper into the illusions. Surely his crop mates heard all the commotion and would come to his rescue. But nothing happened.

Just before the Anointed plunged the spear into his heart, he fell through the floor. It was like jumping in a river, his body slowing down as he fell further into the watery depths of illusion.

At first, it was just dark and murky. For a while, Neheb actually thought he had escaped it. He knew he would have to find his way out of this obstacle, but for now, he sighed in relief, glad to be away from the danger.

That feeling did not last long. Eventually, the watery protection around him ceased. And he was standing on flat ground once more. This room looked even more cavernous than the previous chambers, and he saw no sign of his crop mates. It was darker too, now that he thought about it. His hooves echoed on the floor, breaking the eerie silence.

A shape shimmered and shifted on the walls of the room, but he was not close enough to see what it was. Approaching cautiously, the shape became clearer with every step. It looked like Hazoret, the goddess of zeal. Now that he looked at it again, he was almost certain of it, her golden jackal head glistening under the soft blue glow of Kefnet’s chambers.

Despite the fact that she was the goddess he most admired, this did not fill him with a sense of ease. This was Kefnet’s trial. Nothing was as it seemed. She was not here to welcome him with open arms. Her spear held above her head, she too demanded his death.

Neheb dropped to his knees, quivering like a frightened child. “Spare me, Kefnet, for I know it is you. Please, I have not failed your trial yet. Give me but a moment more, please!”

He did not know at what point he began to sob, begging for his life. Neheb the worthy had now been reduced to a spineless coward. He was sure the trial had ended for him.

A firm hand gripped his shoulder and he saw Itah standing behind him. “Our crop needs its leader,” she said. “There is a way out. Follow me.”

Neheb could hardly believe what he was seeing. Itah looked so sure of herself, and she was so calm and collected. Did she not see the gigantic Hazoret standing behind them? “But…I…can’t,” he said in a pleading bleat.

Itah said nothing, his eyes scanning the room. “Then I will take you,” she said, grabbing the minotaur’s arm and pulling him to his feet.

Neheb obeyed, though his feet seemed to drag at every step. It was more than just Hazoret he saw now. Dozens of dead, mutilated warriors seemed to follow them, shambling Anointed ready to make him one of their flock, and the disapproving looks of the gods filled the area. It felt like the walls were closing in on him, it had become so suffocated with illusions. Itah did everything but carry him.

Just at the end of the halls was a single door. How had he not noticed this before? Rather, how had he not noticed Itah’s ability to handle the maze with ease? “How?” he asked her.

“It is as you say,” Itah told him. “These are but illusions. There is no maze here. We merely had to leave and we are through.”

“What do you mean by just leaving? We have been wandering these halls for hours.”

“Because that is what you willed it to be. You expected a maze, so you created one. If we wanted to pass through the trial, we needed to only will ourselves an exit.”

Neheb hung his head in shame. “So, we have failed then.”

“No, one only fails when they become so entrenched in their own fears that there is no escape. So long as you find the exit, and think before you act, it is as simple as that. Did you not remember any of our readings before we began the trials.”

That was ages ago, Neheb thought. They were hardly adults then. But he nodded anyway. “But why can’t you be like this during our other trials? We could have used such a level head like yours.”

Her brow furrowed. “I have always been like this. But the crop never wanted caution, or planning, or careful consideration of the situation. You demanded action, and that I could not give. Go through this door.”

“But, if you said that all we needed to do was will the maze away, then why are you still here? Why not just will it away?”

“Because I wanted to help you and the rest of the crop through. I’m not leaving you behind.”

Neheb took the first few cautious steps through. He heard Itah following behind until she stumbled. The dead warriors and Anointed had seized her. Neheb tried to reach for his crop mate. “Take my hand!” he shouted.

Itah struggled to fight them off. “They are your fears,” she said. “You have to let go.”

Neheb tried to will them away, to forget them, erase their existence, but it was no use. A nagging part of him kept them alive. He tried grabbing for Itah’s hand again, but they pulled her into the watery abyss. “No!” he shouted.

He tried to wish it all away: the projections, the maze, everything. That actually worked. His own mental exhaustion and desire to be rid of this trial had finally cast away the illusions.

He was back in Kefnet’s temple. Looking around, he realized that all they had done was walk through the door. It was as Itah had said. There never was any maze. The rest of his crop mates were in various states of waking, all of them coming to the stunning realization he had.

Looking over to a far corner, he saw Itah, still lying on the floor, eyes closed in a deep trance. Neheb wondered why Itah did not just will herself out as he had. But then he realized, he had left her with his own projected fears. They were not Itah’s and those could actually hurt her.

He began to shake the human awake, hoping to bring him out of t his trance on his own. “You need to come back to us,” Neheb pleaded. “You were right. We do need you. I’m sorry I never thought you had the will for the trials.”

His pleas were all in vain, and before he could say more, he could see his crop mates bowing themselves on the ground in supplication. He turned around, and there was the shining ibis head of Kefnet coming closer. The god hovered in front of him. Neheb could not form words to beg him to help Itah.

His head tilted, and a voice filled Neheb’s mind.

 **Step aside, initiate,** the god commanded.

Neheb obeyed. “You will help her then?”

Kefnet’s eyes were cold and steely. **Ignorance cannot be accepted in my house of knowledge. I will tolerate this feeble attempt no longer.**

With merely a tap of his staff, Itah awoke, facing the god. Kefnet’s mental communication boomed across the room, and everyone could hear.

**Itah, you have failed my trial. You chose to act in instinct and impulse rather than reason. You have proven you do not have the will to be a champion. Existence in ignorance is a fate none should endure. I shall take that away.**

“No, please! She was trying to – “ Neheb began.

But with hardly a movement, Itah was reduced to dust, as if she had never existed at all. Neheb fell to his knees, not knowing what to do next. Kefnet looked back to him. **I know what she was trying to do, initiate. Her actions lacked wisdom and forethought. She let emotional ties rule her actions. A life without knowledge is one not worth living at all. I should end your life as well, but you solved the maze, even if it was not of your own thinking. You have proven yourself worthy…barely.**

Kefnet drifted out as quietly as he had arrived. Such had been the most important lesson for Neheb the worthy. No trial before or after made him question his place as an initiate.


	3. Zeal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hazoret watches the proceedings of the Trial of Zeal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This time we speed ahead to the last of the trials: zeal. Zeal is controlled by the khenra goddess, Hazoret. This is for the WA POV Challenge in which I have to take the POV of a character that is not the protagonist. So, instead of the usual where I take the viewpoint of one of the main initiates of a crop, I am now taking control of the goddess Hazoret herself as she spectates on her famous trial. Enjoy!_
> 
> _As always, I do not own MTG or its wonderful worldbuilding._

A roar of applause filled the large arena when Hazoret entered. Her feet barely touched the sand as she strode to the center to greet the awaiting public. She could feel her people's adoration, the fire within their hearts, as she nodded her golden head. She also felt the eager anticipation of today's initiates as they awaited their final trial.

She had heard good things about this particular crop. They had made some of the trials seem almost too easy. Even Rhonas was thinking of new ways to make the trial of strength more challenging. They were also one of the crops who had finished with the most survivors in the trial of ambition, not an easy feat. Yet, they had all proved they wanted it that badly.

Of particular interest was the initiate Anit whom she had heard a great deal about. While not the leader of this particular crop, she was considered one of their most powerful contributors. According to some of her own cropmates, Anit was the reason the group had even survived Bontu's trial at all. Were it not for her, they would have been the first crop to fail completely. Hazoret was impressed. Still, they would see how well she fared in the arena. No one had been more spectacular than the legendary Neheb. Hazoret was ready to be dazzled like that again.

Though the goddess never spoke physically, she still used her face and hands to convey her tone. She raised her head high and proud, and her voice rang clear in the heads of the people assembled.

**"People of Naktamun, I am here today to congratulate yet another successful crop and to welcome them to their final trial. Today, initiates, you will show me and everyone here your zeal and devotion to your land, your gods, and your God Pharaoh, may his return come quickly."**

"And may we be found worthy!" the crowd chanted in a triumphant cheer.

Hazoret nodded her approval and began to ascend the steps to her seat of honor where she would watch the trial ensue. She sat, rested her spear against the seat, and leaned forward, her eyes narrowing.

**"Your challenge is simple, initiates. Show that you have embraced the qualities of strength, solidarity, knowledge, ambition, and zeal, and you shall succeed."**

A gate just to the left of Hazoret's perch opened, and several men and women in chains were led in. Around their necks, they had specially marked cartouches that prevented any movement or resistance from them. The initiates glared at them, and the crowd roared their disapproval of the new arrivals. Hazoret silenced the crowd with her hand. She addressed the prisoners as their shackles were removed.

 **"Heretics,"** she said, **"nonbelievers, until now your voices have been silenced. Your doubt is what brought you to a tomb of darkness. Before you stands a proud crop of warriors who have served Naktamun well. They would die for their people and their gods. Today, your spirits will be tested. Will the voices of doubt triumph or those of devotion?"**

The crowd erupted into more frenzy at the challenge. Hazoret looked back at the initiates and the heretics.

 **"We shall see,"** was all she concluded. **"Initiates, should you overcome my challenge, you will be granted the blessed death of a champion. Nonbelievers, should you succeed, I shall grant you the chance to rejoin the trials."**

Her final speech complete, Hazoret lifted her spear, casting her enchantment of battle rage. Her mark crowned each of their heads in a wreath of red. She sat back down to watch the trial begin.

The cartouches around the heretics' chests vanished, giving them free movement again. True, they would be facing their initiate opponents unarmed, but even without a weapon, Hazoret's battle rage still made them formidable fighters. The initiates, of course, embraced the magic and quickly rushed to slay their weak-minded adversaries, Anit leading the way. Hazoret smiled inwardly. This would be entertaining.

As Anit got close to her first target, she whipped her khopeshes out and swung with deft precision. The heretic who was intended to be her first kill ducked and threw himself at her, knocking her to the ground. That was always the first surprise, Hazoret thought. Everyone feels so emboldened by their fighting spirit that they forget everyone else feels the exact same surge of strength.

Any strategies or plans anyone had before this trial were now gone and the scene quickly escalated into absolute chaos. A heretic minotaur bellowed a fierce warcry before grabbing an aven initiate by his neck and snapping it in two to the disapproving roars of the crowd. Hazoret merely watched. Weak of faith he may be, but he certainly came with the strength to back up his fury.

Anit continued to impress. The spell did not control her; she controlled it. Rather than being thrown into a blind rage like the others, she had let the enchantment merely enhance her natural abilities. She had already felled three of the dozen or more heretics single-handedly. Each time she had done so with swift, exacting movements. But she was not afraid to put sheer force behind her actions as well. She had sunk one of her khopeshes deep in the gut of a heretic twice her size and dragged him several yards before dislodging the weapon.

Hazoret could feel the energy from her, could sense her devotion. Anit wanted this, needed this. She was going to die a champion, and she was not going to accept anything less. This was her moment, and no one would stop her.

This was impressive for someone particularly devoted to Oketra, Hazoret thought. Not that she considered the followers of her sister-god any "weaker," but they usually put the needs of their team first. Then again, the trial of ambition had been known to change people before. And it was not as though Anit did not defend her own. She protected her crop when she could, but today she was going to complete her trials. That was the goal.

By this point, the crop had whittled the heretics down to three and they had lost four of their own. The heretics were starting to group together, hoping to use a team effort against their foes, or at the very least avoid them. Anit and her cropmates would have made short work of them eventually, but for now, both groups were in a bit of a stalemate.

 **"Release the manticores,"** Hazoret commanded. She had barely finished the thought when she heard the gates opening.

A screeching roar echoed through the arena, and initiates and heretics alike stopped in their tracks as two lumbering beasts emerged. Their golden, striped fur glistened in the sun, and their scorpion tails swished this way and that as they surveyed the area. They growled and hissed at each other for a few seconds, disturbed by being awoken and having the blinding light of the afternoon suns upon them. But they quickly settled on their prey: anything in there that was not them.

Anit was naturally the first one to engage in combat with them. Brandishing her khopeshes at arm's length, she and her fellow initiates encircled the beast, looking for the right opportunity to strike. One of the creatures was not all that interested in her and went for one of the heretics, who had taken the entrance of the manticores as his opportunity to try and run. He was gone in two crunches of the manticore's jaws.

The dozen or more initiates focused on the other one with Anit. If they could get rid of at least one major threat while the heretics were busy with the other, they would be set. Hazoret was eager to see just what sort of spectacular feat they would accomplish. The manticores did have rough hides that would not be so easily broken as the flesh of heretics. They would need to get creative.

And indeed, creative is how Hazoret would have described it. They had herded the beast into a corner, and they held themselves in a semi-circular position. The manticore's tail thrashed about in warning and it growled as it searched for an opening in their ranks, but they knew better than that. They had trained their whole lives to work together as a crop.

Anit nodded to two of her comrades and they proceeded to taunt it with a few swings of their weapons. Good, Hazoret thought, they were taking control and directing its attention.

The beast reared on its hind legs and prepared to charge. That was when Anit made her move. She took a running slide under the manticore as its forelegs came down, her khopeshes held high. As she slid underneath, her weapons made contact with the softer underbelly of the creature. In only a matter of seconds, she had split the manticore open, its entrails falling out in a heap just before the creature swayed on its feet and fell too.

Anit stood back up triumphantly to the cheers of the crowd, still covered in some of the blood. This pleased Hazoret. Indeed, this was an initiate who would be remembered.

The other manticore had made short work of the remaining heretics and was the only obstacle the initiates had left to face. Finished on the gorging of three people, it would be a little slower than its partner. But that would make it no less deadly. It could still pierce through a man, armor and all, in less than a blink of an eye if provoked.

The initiates formed a similar tactic to the one before. Keeping their distance, they gave the manticore little room to get too far. This one seemed to be smarter, though. Its scorpion tail whipped around the group, pounding into the dirt as initiates dodged out of its way. This one knew who was the top of the food chain, Hazoret mused.

With deadly precision, the manticore stabbed through a khenra initiate, and he was dead before the poison had any time to react. Anit took that as her opportunity and threw one of her khopeshes. It sunk deep into the creature's neck. Hazoret smirked. The trial of ambition had done her well. Very few early initiates would have taken that chance just after losing one of their own. But Anit was the type to see the bigger picture, Hazoret knew. They had a final trial to complete.

Despite the curved blade sticking out of its neck, the beast still stood and now thrashed wildly. It was now in a desperate frenzy to fight off the threat. One of the initiates, a strong minotaur, let Hazoret's spell of battle lust embolden him and leaped for the manticore's tail. He held fast and the beast swung him around like a rag doll, but eventually, the minotaur got enough momentum to weigh down the tail and snap it in half.

An aven woman rushed toward the beast as it howled in pain. Before it could do anything else, she had yanked Anit's khopesh out of its neck and sliced the rest of its head off in a quick flourish.

Watching the head of the manticore roll towards her, Hazoret immediately ceased her spell. Their battle rages dispelled, the initiates were able to fully take stock of their success. True, they had lost several of their number in this fight. Anointed were already rushing out to claim the still intact bodies for the anointing ritual. But they had succeeded. Eight initiates remained standing to claim their honor as champions. The crowd erupted into fanatical cheers.

Hazoret stood, silencing the celebration. **"Initiates, you have proven your devotion to the God Pharaoh, may his return come quickly."**

"And may we be found worthy!" the initiates said, now with much more conviction.

The goddess nodded. **"Indeed, you have been found worthy. Not only have you proven your strength, your solidarity to the trials, your knowledge, and your ambition. You have earned my cartouche and the title of champions."**

Another round of cheers. Hazoret let them have this for a few seconds before she spoke again. **"Initiates, ascend."**

With order and reverence, the first initiate climbed the stone steps to Hazoret's perch, to stand before the goddess in all her splendor. Around their neck, she placed the golden cartouche of zeal. Each initiate would wear all five of the cartouches they had earned proudly. They would serve them well in the next life.

And then they stood, arms open and waiting for the blessed death of a champion. In one quick motion, Hazoret plunged her spear into the initiate's chest. He collapsed slowly in a heap. They never suffered. Hazoret saw to that. Then, more Anointed would take the body to be carried off on a boat to the Gate just on the Luxa River.

One by one, the eight initiates approached to accept their fate. The God Pharaoh would be pleased. This was the most she had sent in quite a long while.

Anit was the last to approach. Hazoret could not have been prouder. This was the paragon of a champion. True, all initiates who succeeded the trials were champions in their own rights, but a handful were so much more than that. Anit was among those few.

Hazoret nodded gracefully as she placed the cartouche around her neck. **"Great champion,"** she said only to her, **"I welcome you to the land of the blessed. May you serve the great God Pharaoh upon his return."**

The goddess lifted her spear, ready to bless the last of these great initiates. But something gave her pause. This…this did not feel right. Something was very wrong here. It was like a distant memory. A ritual just like this one, but…different somehow.

People were not meant to be slaughtered like lambs, not in this way. Not so many should have to die. But where were these thoughts coming from? Hazoret could feel them just on the brink of her consciousness, but they were hazy. She was not Hazoret, the bringer of the death of a champion. That was not her at all. She was Hazoret, the protector of all, guardian of her children, the people. And the word "God Pharaoh" felt foreign to her, as if the word had never existed at all.

As quickly as the thought had come on, it faded, as if some sort of string had been pulled to bring her back into reality. Hazoret did not remember where these thoughts came from, and the more she thought about it, she had forgotten what it was that she had been thinking about.

Coming back to the task at hand, Hazoret felt a little embarrassed that she had kept this champion waiting for so long. She put the spear through Anit's heart and watched her fall. Later that day, by the setting of the first sun, Hazoret watched the eight boats go through the Gate. **Protect the champions, great God Pharaoh,** she thought. **They await your return.**


	4. Solidarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aharon questions his future on the eve of the trials for his crop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Now is normally the point where I explain to you the challenge this story was written for as well as some of my thought process while writing the story. However, given the nature of the challenge, I'm not going to do that this time. I'll save most of that for the end. However, I will say that this was written for the Writers Anonymous Flower Language Challenge. I was assigned the forsythia._
> 
> _For those of you who have been reading this series of stories and are familiar with the world of MTG, yes, I have been now made aware (thanks to the recent Art of Magic the Gathering book set) that my order for the trials has been mixed up. All previous chapters have been fixed to account for this change._

Aharon could not sleep. He tossed and turned for several minutes before finally giving up. He knew in his current state of mind he could not bring himself to relax.

He ended up staring at the ceiling, finding nothing else to do. A cool desert breeze drifted through the window, making the gauzy curtains billow, looking like faded phantoms. It was quiet out, but Aharon could not quiet the thoughts rushing through his mind.

The next morning would bring the first of the trials. He and the rest of the Ahket crop would begin their journey toward earning the honored death of champions. It was something they had been training and talking about for the past few months, at least with more excitement anyway. Of course, they had been preparing for it since they could remember, but lately, as the day drew closer, it became their only topic of conversation. And yet, despite how much they talked about how close the approaching date was getting, it always felt so distant.

Now, it was here, and Aharon still could not picture it actually happening. It still had to be a distant dream, he thought.

It would start with the Trial of Solidarity, a test of speed and skill, but also one of teamwork and trust. Of that, Aharon had no doubt when it came to his crop-mates. He trusted them with everything. They had lived, trained, and had done everything together since they were small. Their success was all but guaranteed.

Then again, maybe it was not. Anything could happen in these trials. They had gone and watched some of the spectacle before. It was training to see what strategies worked and did not work. Yet, no matter what, it was always a guarantee that nothing always went as planned. Surprises happened, and some trials, like Kefnet's and Bontu's trials, were shrouded in secrecy. No one knew what to expect.

All these doubts seemed to turn Aharon's stomach and made his mind race even more. He wished the next morning would come already. He could not stand having to wait like this.

He felt a hand shake his shoulder. He turned to see Ife had attempted to wake him. She had unofficially taken on the role as leader of their crop. Well, she said it was unofficial, but he and the other members of the group had pretty much officially acknowledged her as leader. She was brave, calculating, and always put the crop first. That was what made her a good leader. Aharon particularly liked her because she was the only one not afraid to touch him. While it was not as though people outright hated the naga, many still felt uncomfortable around them. Something about looking like a deadly serpent seemed to put people off. But not Ife. She always said she liked how he looked; it made him look brave and strong like the god, Rhonas.

She seemed to already know he was awake. "Couldn't sleep either, huh?" she said.

Aharon shook his head. But he was afraid to tell her about his worries. Would he be considered weak by the crop?

"None of us can," she continued. "Too excited about tomorrow. We were thinking of sneaking into the arena. I think just standing on that field will help make it feel real."

"Are you sure we wouldn't be violating trial rules?" Aharon asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mister By-the-Book. We'll be fine."

"That's not what I was asking."

"If we get caught, I can't imagine us getting into too much trouble. After all, we're just an eager crop looking for a little motivation."

Aharon shook his head. "Yeah, assuming that they don't think we were attempting to cheat."

"I doubt it. Everyone knows how severe the punishment is for that. Now, are you coming or not?"

He thought about it. He knew for sure he was not going to be getting any sleep tonight. He might as well have gone with his crop. Laying here worrying was not going to be doing him much good. Still, the trials were a sacred ritual. How much trouble would he get in if they were caught?

Ife and the others were already heading for the door. "Well, if you change your mind," she said, that taunting tone in her voice.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," he said, slithering out of bed to catch up. "You don't give a guy any time to think, do you?"

She smirked. "If I did, you could have had the time to talk yourself and probably all of us out of it." She clapped him on the shoulder. "Try not to worry so much. Your worrying only makes it seem worse. Besides, I think you need this more than anyone."

Like all the trials, each one was held at the monument dedicated to the god who oversaw the trial. Oketra's monument was a tall, open-air tower. Aharon and the rest of his crop gazed up at the structure in awe.

"It's taller than I remember," Matun, one of his crop-mates said. "We'll have to be able to climb pretty high if we want to stand a chance."

"That's why I want to see the inside," Ife said. "If we can form a good plan going in, we'll be unstoppable."

Aharon shook his head. "And how do you propose we do that? Doors are locked, meaning the only way in is up."

"Consider it good practice."

Matun ran his hand against the wall. "But the outside of the monument is smooth. There are no ledges like inside."

Ife went to Rehema, one of the two avens in their group, and handed her a long rope. "That's why I always come prepared. Rehema and Behmet will fly through the roof of the tower, tie this rope to one of the ledges on the balcony inside, and lower the rest down to us. It should be long enough."

Rehema nodded and flew high along the edges of the monument, Behmet on her tail, before dipping down into the open roof. After a few seconds, the end of the rope came sailing down. It was a little shorter than everyone had anticipated, but it was enough to reach with a little effort. Aharon, being the tallest when he could stretch to his full length, helped boost the others up to reach. He brought up the rear, climbing the wall.

It was slow-going at first. No one had planned to be spending the night before their first trial getting in some unorthodox, extra training. But once they got in sync, they scaled the wall and entered the monument. Several times, while they were still in training, they had watched the Trial of Solidarity in the arena seats near the top, but during those times, there was usually a crowd. This was the first time they could see the entire area empty. And it was another thing entirely to know that in mere hours, they would be the ones down in there with everyone watching them.

Ife seemed to be taking it all in with glee. "Isn't this amazing?" she said. "First thing in the morning, we're going to be down there facing Oketra herself! Think about it. It's the only trial where a god gets involved, and we get to be a part of it."

Aharon did not feel the same sentiment. People communed with the gods daily, but even then, most people could say that they only had ever had a handful of actual conversations with them. Aharon could only say he had done it once, and it was not a fun experience. The gods were intimidating to say the least. When their voices resonated in one's head, it was jarring. Then again, Aharon had only had this experience with Rhonas, the god of strength. He was already a powerful, intense figure. Maybe it would be better with Oketra. Still, it did not ease his nerves.

"C'mon, I want to check it out on the ground level," Ife said, interrupting his thoughts.

She dashed down ahead of them, Aharon, again slithering behind. He could not understand why he was dragging his tail about this. This was what they had trained for. And in truth, it was not this particular trial that he worried about. It was what was yet to come. He had heard stories about the mysterious and dangerous things that happened during the trials after this one. He had also seen the devastation during Hazoret's trial. Tomorrow was the first step down that road. What would that mean for him? What would that mean for their crop? He hated the thought of losing even one of his close friends.

Down on the ground, Ife and the others were waiting. Ife already seemed to be soaking it in. "This is perfect," she said. "I mean, look at that view." She craned her neck, looking toward the atrium. "It really is like knowing you'll work your way to the top. That sand below, it just feels…right. I have a good feeling about this one."

This sand on the arena ground was coarse and felt especially gritty between his scales. It was supposed to provide traction, Aharon knew, but it still felt unpleasant.

Ife was already starting to plan out their strategy. "Rhema and Behmet, you're our fliers. You'll be on the offensive, fighting the mummies. They won't expect that. Aharon, you'll be the main runner for the arrow."

"Me?"

They had discussed this strategy before, but this was the first time he had been given a specific role different from everyone else. "Me?" he repeated. "But why?"

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Because, believe it or not, you're the fastest we've got. Plus, you're a naga. I think you'll have the edge on climbing."

"I suppose, but…"

"And you won't be alone. That would be stupid of us. Matun and Pte will help as decoys. But I'm counting on you to be our wringer. I know you can do that."

Aharon felt the lump building in his throat. It was the same lump that had started in his stomach earlier in the night. It was the one that had been building up inside him this past week as the days slowly passed. It was the same one that had been building inside him since he was old enough to learn what the trials were.

"I…I can't," he said at last.

Finally, Ife's confident demeanor broke. She looked at him with a confused expression. "What do you mean you can't? Aharon, if it's because you're a little nervous, it's not a problem. I know you can do it. Look, that's why we're here. I wanted everyone to get their nerves out by being here."

"It's more than that," he said. "I just…can't okay? I'm not like you and the others. I can't just put on a brave face and fake it. These trials, all of them…I have this feeling that things are going to go wrong, and I…I won't stand by and watch you all die, or worse, make it my fault that someone gets hurt."

The others in the group began to murmur.

"But you can't leave!"

"No one simply skips the trials."

"Aharon, that's dissenter talk. You know what happens to them."

Aharon threw up his hands. "I know, I know, but I'd rather be a dissenter than a failure to you."

"But that's just it," Ife said. "You're not a failure, not to us."

The others agreed. Aharon was not convinced. "I wish I believed that," he said.

 **"Losing faith now is not a good omen,"** a voice boomed in his head.

Aharon and the others all knew what this feeling was. Standing under the gigantic archway was Oketra herself, her golden feline head as impassive as ever. Her robes billowed in the breeze, and she stepped forward to address them properly, her graceful feet never touching the sands.

They all supplicated before her. Her voice entered their minds with the usual greeting. **"May the God Pharaoh's return come quickly."**

"And may we be found worthy," they chanted.

As they rose, Aharon could not meet her gaze. He knew her comment was directed toward him. Yet somehow, he knew she was looking right at him.

 **"You seem certain of failure, Aharon,"** she said. **"Why is that?"**

His voice caught in his throat several times. In many ways, he could think of a lot of reasons he felt this way. Yet the words to explain them seemed to escape him.

**"Have you lost your tongue as well?"**

At last he said the first thing that came to mind. "Kefnet teaches that in order to achieve any action, one must visualize their own success."

**"Just so. A wise teaching from the god of knowledge."**

"Well, that's just it. As our training neared completion, I tried visualizing these trials, succeeding in them, I mean. I couldn't. It is the day of, and this still feels like some faraway dream, like it isn't real yet. I just can't picture it, and…and I'm afraid it wouldn't happen. That sounds ridiculous, I know, but I wish I could explain it better."

For a while, there was only silence. Neither the goddess or his friends said anything. Oketra only gazed somewhere above them, pensively thinking. Seconds felt like hours as Aharon waited for a response. The sky was beginning to brighten as dawn approached. The air seemed crisp and fragrant as a layer of dew set in on everything.

 **"You fear failure from your trial, and thus, that is what you expect,"** Oketra said at last. **"Anticipation is a mysterious thing. It weakens us when we least expect it, cripples us when we do not want it, and…somehow makes us stronger."**

Aharon looked up at her, confused by what she said. How did she mean "stronger?" But before he could ask, she continued.

**"It makes us cautious. It makes us think before acting. It is how we learn. Aharon, right now, you are conflicted because you have let your expectations overrun you. But take strength in them, and it will make you a powerful force."**

"I don't think I understand."

**"You see the world in possibilities. You are someone who uses forethought. Such will leave you more prepared than most for what lies ahead."**

Ife nudged him. "She means that you're smarter than you give yourself credit for," she whispered. "See, I told you that you could handle this."

"Perhaps…" he said.

 **"And perhaps not,"** Oketra finished for him. **"Muse on the possibilities all you like, but remember, eventually you have to act. Use your skill wisely."**

Ife put a hand on his shoulder. "And we do it together. That's what this first trial is about. If you're really unsure about it, we can always come up with a new plan, one we all feel confident in."

"No, it's fine," he answered. "It makes sense, and it does have the best chance of working. Besides, it's almost daylight. Now or never, right?"

She nodded. Aharon let out the breath he did not know he was holding and watched as morning light creeped over the sky. He was still very unsure. His stomach was still in knots. He still worried about what the future would hold, but at least now he had no choice. The first day of their trials had come, and there was no turning back.

He felt Oketra enter his mind again, but this time, it was different, more concentrated, as if the words she had to say were only meant for him. He looked up at the goddess' shining face. If she was speaking to him, she gave no sign to anyone else that she was doing so.

**"We anticipate great things from you, Aharon."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So, forsythia, being a springtime flower is associated with "anticipation" and "expectation." I found it a bit ironic that this challenge and the flower I was given were given at this particular time. Right about when this challenge started, I was finishing something very big in my career. So, as I thought about the concept of "anticipation," I easily called upon my own anticipation I felt in the days just before beginning this major milestone. When it comes to my characters, each one carries some small piece of me in them. Aharon is a unique case. All the things he felt were the ways I would have described my own anticipation before this event in my career. As a class-A worrier with OCD, I often let my own anxieties take over like this, and so Aharon was a voice to help me understand my own feelings. I hope you enjoyed, and the final trial to come is Strength. I will see you then!_


End file.
